


Goats are from the Devil

by Kienova



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Christmas Special 2016, Gen, Goats, South Africa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: Shelagh is not a fan of goats.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring prompt fics from Tumblr.

She’s had the fear of them since she was little.

_It started innocently enough, her childhood curiosity getting the better of her as she clambered over the fence into farmer McGinnis’s field when she was barely four, blonde hair in plaits down her back as she stomped through the puddles, giggling at the mud. She had heard that one of the sows had piglets the night before and wanted nothing more than to see them. What she found, however, wasn’t the pig pen, but rather one full of goats._

She had giggled, the ignorance of her age keeping any fear from her as she rushed towards them, arms outstretched, desperate to feel their rough fur beneath her fingers. She stopped but an inch from them, taking in their strange eyes, the yellow irises tracking her movement as she tentatively reached for the one closest to her, it’s patchy brown and white fur flecked with sunlight. It cocked its head, rectangular pupils following her. Without warning the goat let out a bleating screech, charging at her, horns down.

She screamed, stumbling backwards as she was head butted, her feet going out from under her as she ended up in the mud. The goat raced around her before running back into the herd, seeming to contemplate if he was going to attack again, tongue lolling as he let out another loud noise. She could practically hear her own heartbeat as she cried, pushing herself up as quickly as her little arms and legs could manage before dashing for the fence, scraping her knee roughly as she scrambled over the beams, landing heavily on the other side to the sound of her mother’s voice calling her name from the other end of the field.

Shelagh looked down at the goats with trepidation, holding her parasol out in front of her as she tried to move around them, words spilling from her mouth without her consent as she tried to placate them. When she had come to Africa her biggest fear had been to encounter a lion or another form of carnivorous animal, but she had not anticipated moving through a small herd of goats just while attempting to make a phone call. Had the message she needed to get through to Nonnatus, and the quest that went with it, not been so important, she may have turned back and fled. Instead she batted gently at the animals as she moved through them, heart pounding in her throat as their eerie eyes tracked her.

She let out a breath when she cleared the other side of the herd, closing her eyes as she hastily continued on her way, pulse picking up as she distantly heard the sound of cloven hooves trailing after her in the dirt, soft bleating echoing every few moments. Shelagh clenched her eyes shut for a moment before hurrying, glancing back to see the black and white goat following her.

“Please go away,” she muttered, barely loud enough to hear herself as she tried not to panic, her pace increasing until she could see the post office. She looked behind her eyes few steps until she was able to dash up the steps, breathing hard as she went into the shop to inquire about the phone, trying not to slide down to the floor in relief.

Her conversation with Sister Monica Joan went well, the elder woman seeming immensely pleased to be given a task of such importance, promising to attain the braces at once and have Patsy send them along as quickly as she could. As she hung up the phone she ducked back into the main part of the shop, picking up a few little things before she headed back out into the street, nearly screaming when she found the goat still waiting there, watching her.

“You have got to be joking,” Shelagh groaned, taking a deep breath before diving out into the street, parasol again at her side as the goat instantly started following her. She thought it would lose interest as she passed the heard yet again, skirting around the perimeter as quickly as possible before continuing on to the mission hospital at a clipped pace. Instead, when she glanced back just before crossing into the compound, she found that it was still behind her. Patrick was leaning against the mission’s truck, talking to Fred, when he noticed his wife, a grin splitting his face.

“Have you made a new friend my love?” He questioned, beaming at her, motion in towards the still advancing goat with a jerk of his chin.

“The bloody thing won’t stop following me,” she growled in reply, yelping when the goat screeched at her, sending her directly into Patrick’s chest. She could feel her husband chuckling against her while Fred went to shoo the goat off.

“All right?” Patrick asked, stroking her back gently.

“I hate goats,” she mumbled. Patrick just kept laughing.


End file.
